


Sketches

by marbee



Series: It Can Be Good Again [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Book 3: Mockingjay, Book/Movie 2: Catching Fire, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22424017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marbee/pseuds/marbee
Summary: Quick little drabble about the drawings Peeta made the day before the Quarter Quell.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Series: It Can Be Good Again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613773
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Sketches

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to go down memory lane and re edit some of my older work that I have posted here. I am not quite sure I caught all the mistakes but I definitely think these are better than the originals

_1 cup of warm water_

_2 tablespoons of yeast_

_2 tablespoons of sugar_

_2 teaspoons of garlic powder_

_1/4 cup of melted butter_

_1/4 cup of olive oil_

_3 cups of flour_

_2 teaspoons of salt_

_8 ounces of mozzarella cheese_

_Parmesan cheese to sprinkle on top_

_Preheat the oven to 375º. Mix together the yeast and water and let it sit for a couple minutes. then add the sugar, garlic powder, melted butter, and oil. Add the flour a little and a time, mixing in your stand mixer with a dough hook. Add the salt._

_Knead for 10 minutes then let the dough rise in a bowl covered with a wet cloth for about 30 minutes. Then divide the dough into about 20 pieces, put about a 3/4-inch chunk of cheese in each one and making sure to pinch all the edges back up tightly. Put the pinched side down on a greased baking sheet. Sprinkle the buns with more shredded cheese and some parmesan cheese._

_Bake at 375ºF for about 11-15 minutes until the bread is golden brown and the cheese is bubbles._

I repeat those words in my head over and over again. Those words keep me sane. Well, that and making sure my shackles staying biting into my skin.

I’ve been in this small, compact hospital room in District 13 since my rescue, since my encounter with her. That was what? A few weeks ago? My perception of time hasn’t been the same since the Quarter Quell. It doesn’t really help that I have been spending every waking moment starring at this white wall. Had it not been for Delly coming to visit me every now and then, I’d probably start to believe that I was still trapped in the Capitol. Even then, sometimes I forget that I’m not there anymore. I break out into a heavy sweat when I don’t hear Johanna’s shrieks of pain in the middle of the night, my mind goes haywire, convinced that they have finally killed her, and now I’m next. It takes the doctors and nurses a while to sedate me and remind me that Johanna and I are no longer in the Capitol’s hands. That we are in District 13 and that Johanna is safe, that I am safe. But if there is one thing that the hospital in District 13 and the Capitol have in common is that they are always watching you. Even when I am alone in this room, the doctors are watching me, evaluating me. District 13 should be a safe haven, but somehow, I still feel like a prisoner.

I hear a gentle knocking against my steel door, pulling me out of my solemn reverie and someone stepping quietly into my room.

“Mr. Mellark?”

I ignore her.

“Mr. Mellark?”

Maybe if I don’t respond, she will just leave.

“Mr. Mellark,” she says more curtly.

What does she want? Does she want to coax me into agreeing to talking to talking to the district shrink again? I can still feel my knuckles throbbing from the last time I talked to him.

“Mr. Mellark, you have a visitor,” she says, tapping her foot on the ground.

Visitor…I have a visitor? There is a small, quiet part of me wishes it was her, to see her, to talk to her but then a larger, louder part of me wants to smash her head into the wall for everything she has done to me. I keep on staring at the white wall, I don’t want to talk to anyone.

“Just let me in, it won’t take long,” I hear a gruff voice demand. His voice sounded familiar.

I hear the man’s district 13-issued boots against the tile flooring. He taps my shoulder. I don’t look back at him. He taps my shoulder again. I keep my eyes locked on the white wall. Don't look who it is, Peeta. Just ignored him.

He taps my shoulder again, a little harder this time.

“I don’t want to get aggressive with you, boy. But if I have to, then I will,” he says. Clearly this man has no idea who he’s talking to.

Keeping my blank face, I turn my body to face him, which is difficult to do, probably due to the fact that I’m shackled, and my prosthetic is irritating my stub. But what’s new. Once I am able to catch a good look at the man, I realize that it’s Haymitch, my old mentor. I can’t tell if I’m relieved to see him or not.

“I’m guessing you’re not in the mood for some company,” I meet his eyes, “but I found these, and I thought well…” he holds out what seems to a leather folder.

I glance down to my hands, his eyes follow. Apparently, he wasn't informed that I am bound to handcuffs.

“Here,” he says as he puts out what seems to be some sketches and spread them out a little on my bed. These are mine?

I glance at them and then offer my first words, “what are those?”

“Some doodles you made a couple months ago. I thought you might like them,” and as he walks out of the room he says, “or not.”

I take a better look at sketches. There of her. Her sleeping, her weaving a crown of flowers, her smiling, her in the sunset, there are even some of her eating.

I crane my neck to get a better look at one of the pictures. I see the care and detail I put into these drawings. She doesn't look like the monster mutation from my dreams, she almost looks lovely...beautiful even. I pick up another drawing, the best I can with these cuffs around my wrists. The more I study these sketches, the more I begin to understand how much I must have been infatuated with her; how much I really must've loved her. I start to feel a deep pang of pain in my heart. Then a flood of memories comes to mind—

_After being informed that we had a free day, we order a bunch of food, grab some blankets and head up to the roof for a picnic. A daylong picnic in the flower garden that tinkles with wind chimes. It almost feels like a dream. We eat; she later snaps off some of the hanging vines and practices her weaving and knot tying, eventually making a crown of flowers. I sketch her, I wonder if she notices. We make up a game with the force field that surrounds the roof—one of us throws an apple and the other has to catch it. It’s nice that we get to have this alone time, that no one bothers us. By late afternoon, her head is on my lap. I play with her soft hair, using the excuse that I’m also practicing my knots, but she’s smart enough to know otherwise. After a while, a thought runs through my mind and my hands go still._

_“What?” she asks._

_I look down at her, “I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever.”_

_I wonder how she’s going to respond to that. I brace myself for a crass response. I can’t feel bad for basically telling her how I feel, considering that after the Quarter Quell, I’ll be dead and she will live, live her life, her life with her family, her life with Gale. The life she deserves to have. Which reminds me, I need to check up with Effie about that golden necklace we talked about._

_“Okay,” she whispers._

_That took me by surprise. Never in a million year would I think she would agree to something so “loving” if that’s the correct word._

_“Then you’ll allow it?” I feel a smile creep on my face._

_“I’ll allow it,” she replies._

_I look up at the sunset and in this moment, I feel content._

Feeling overwhelmed, I hastily pick up all the sketches and place them under my pillow and face the white wall again. I don’t know what Haymitch was trying to accomplish here with these sketches. All I’m left are with a mixture of heartache and longing with a tad of confusion sprinkled in somewhere.

I take a deep breath and shake away the thoughts of flower crowns and sunsets. I go back to my tried and true: staring at a wall. I don’t want to think about Katniss right now. I think I don’t want to think about Katniss ever again. I don’t even think she thinks about me much anyway. It’ll be better for both of us in the long run if we just don’t think about each other ever again.

What was that recipe again? Oh yeah, cheese buns.

_1 cup of warm water_

_2 tablespoons of yeast_

_2 tablespoons of sugar_

_2 teaspoons of garlic powder_

_1/4 cup of melted butter_

_1/4 cup of olive oil_

_3 cups of flour_

_2 teaspoons of salt_

_8 ounces of mozzarella cheese_

_Parmesan cheese to sprinkle on top_

_Preheat the oven to 375º. Mix together the yeast and water and let it sit for a couple minutes. then add the sugar, garlic powder, melted butter, and oil. Add the flour a little and a time, mixing in your stand mixer with a dough hook. Add the salt._

_Knead for 10 minutes then let the dough rise in a bowl covered with a wet cloth for about 30 minutes. Then divide the dough into about 20 pieces, put about a 3/4-inch chunk of cheese in each one and making sure to pinch all the edges back up tightly. Put the pinched side down on a greased baking sheet. Sprinkle the buns with more shredded cheese and some parmesan cheese._

_Bake at 375ºF for about 11-15 minutes until the bread is golden brown and the cheese is bubbles._

**Author's Note:**

> Recipe from by Yammie’s Noshery! http://www.yammiesnoshery.com/2012/08/peetas-stuffed-cheese-buns.html
> 
> I haven't made these yet but they looked so yummy in the pictures!


End file.
